


shut up

by Terminality



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminality/pseuds/Terminality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill for the request: "I want Karkat to be totally dominated by any character - getting eaten out/facesitting, dry humping, the Full Sex (thank you playerprophet), whatever - so long as he's talkative during the sex. Whatever it is, I just want there to be dialogue or at least a monologue of actual words coming out of Karkat's mouth, because even awesome sex can't shut this boy up."</p>
<p>Dave/Karkat, Dave second-person POV, awkward conversations during sex, ho boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shut up

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days I will write something that isn't DaveKat.
> 
> Today is not that day.
> 
> God but I am the most awkward at writing sex, why do I even do these fills.

He's lying spread out on your bed clad only in his boxer shorts and even though you have him pressed under your body with your hands exploring every inch of him, he's still talking like he's in control. You lick a line from his collarbone to his chin and grind down into his crotch, panting into the crook of his neck while you do, and he moans, noisily and clearly over-the-top, direclty into your ear.

"You're a nooksniffing, incompetent wiggler at this. You act like such a coolkid but you don't know the first thing about flushed sex, do you?" His rant is derailed when you grind down into him again, the bulge in your jeans rubbing firmly against his. You can feel him curl up on himself in pleasure, his toes pulling at the blankets, clawed hands dug deep into the mattress. You are going to have to get a new one soon, for the fifth time since you started having these little incursions with Karkat. He always ends up shredding them to pieces, like a cat gone crazy, and after a while you can't stand sleeping with stuffing in your face any more. You should punish him for it, but before you can think up a good way to do so, he bucks up into you, and you forget momentarily what you were supposed to be doing.

"God, Strider, the point isn't to just _stop_ randomly, don't just fucking stop, fuck," he inhales a sharp intake of breath when you shove your hand between you both, leaning to the side so you can get a good grip on his bulge, letting it sit comfortably against your palm. You give him a good squeeze and kiss at the tip of his ear while you do, drawing your tongue along the edge of it before biting at his neck.

If there's anything you've learned about Karkat Vantas in the past couple of months, it's that he never stops talking. You'd thought maybe there was some kind of off-switch somewhere, that eventually he'd run out of steam or just be too distracted to keep up a steady stream of words, but you had been pretty decidedly proven wrong when you had first had sex and he had just never 

stopped 

talking.

It sort of amazes you. You like to think you are pretty good at this whole sex thing - you're a Strider, after all - but even you can't focus on forming quite as coherent and complicated sentences as Karkat can when he's in the heat of the moment. It must be some kind of special talent he possesses, you think. You could make a killing off of that special talent, you think. Karkat Vantas: the amazing bottom boy who never shuts the fuck up, watch him in action at your local Strider residence.

A clawed hand digging into the back of your bare shoulder gets your attention.

"What the everloving fuck were you doing? Why do you constantly space out like some kind of sopor addict at the most inconvienent possible moments. It amazes me how anyone can be so completely incompetent at everything they try and yet still be alive," he latches onto the back of your head, pushing you further down his chest. "Now do something useful before I give up on you entirely."

You lick at the center of his chest, laughing, before leaning back away from him, hands pressed on his hips.

"Oh hell no, I'm the one runnin' this rodeo, Karkitty," you say and before he can come up with a good response you have him flipped onto his stomach, his side pressed against your chest, and you free him from his boxers in one swift movement. You kiss at his spine, lips pressing against each little bump and curve, and he wiggles underneath you, clearly enjoying himself.

" _That's_ more like it," his voice is almost a purr, a collection of whirring and clicking that sounds more like a herd of angry crickets than a cat's purr, and you run your hand across his ass, giving it a tight squeeze, before slipping your fingers between his legs and pressing against his nook. He lets out a rather unflattering little gasp when you do, squirming down against your hands.

He acts tough, and he talks the entire way through it, but he loves it when you touch him like this. It's evident in every little move, every whine and word and noise that comes out of his mouth, and you devour it, revel in it and make it your own.

It's a struggle to get your own pants off, your hands fumbling with the button because of impatience and lust, and when you finally accomplish it you roughly yank Karkat onto his side and pull him against your chest and legs. He shifts, looping one leg back over yours, eager but clearly annoyed.

"What are you trying to do, give me whiplash?" He pushes back against you and you groan, biting his shoulder and pulling him closer to you. You press your hand against his back, angling him down at a more comfortable angle, before slipping yourself inside his nook in one thrust. He gasps when you do, his immediate reaction of surprise quickly replaced with eagerness, and he rocks back against you when you press forward into him, falling into a familiar rhythm.

"Fuck," he hisses, groaning deep in his chest with each little movement of your hips against him, and you rub at his back and shoulders and neck, showering him with kisses. "Maybe, augh, maybe you aren't so bad at this after all. Apparently months of educating you in the proper way of participating in a flushed romance have finally made a difference." He sounds so smug, even with your dick shoved up inside him and his body pressed so tightly into the bed, and you bite him, hard, in annoyance.

"Do you ever shut that mouth of yours, Vantas?" He pants, a grin on his face even as you press hard up into him. He bites his lip when you do.

"Of course not."

You groan.

He says flushed, which you guess is true, because you definitely don't hate him, but sometimes you think you could. You think about how much he talks and how annoying he is and how many times he's torn your bedsheets and clothes with his claws and you find that it drives you insane. But you know, from experience, that not having those things around is worse, so you guess you are flushed, or you pity him, or you love him, or whatever you want to call it.

At least until he opens his mouth again.

"Nevermind, I take it back. You are still an incompetent--" You don't give him time to finish. You use your arm underneath him to reach up and clamp his mouth shut, wrapping your fingers around his bulge with the other, and you thurst up into him frantically, knowing he's close. He mutters something against your hand and you laugh in his ear when he tries.

"Seriously dude, shut the fuck up sometimes," you say, and you thurst into him again, and stroke his bulge once more, and he's gone, whining into your hand while he shudders around your dick with his orgasm, and you follow close behind, coming in him while he's still shaking against you.

You lean your head onto his shoulder and he untanlges himself from you carefully, pulling forward and slipping from your arms. You hang onto his mouth for as long as you can, and when you finally let go, he snaps at your fingers, teeth bared.

"Rude," he pants, glaring at you from across the bed. You roll your eyes.

"You know what's even more rude? Insulting the guy who's fucking you. Jegus fuck, man. You never shut up." He snorts, batting at you half-heartedly from across the bed, and you grab him by the hand and pull him back into your arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I can be quiet if I want to," he says, and he actually snuggles into your arms, and you let him, because tough coolkid exterior or not, you secretly love how cuddly he is after sex. You press your face into his hair between his horns, kissing at the base of one and getting a pleased purr in response.

"Prove it." He snorts, rubbing at your sides and chest thoughtfully.

"I don't have to prove anything!" He goes quiet then, either as some kind of vindicitive desire to annoy you now that it doesn't matter, or because he is slowly starting to fall asleep, and you breath a deep sigh into his tussled hair.

He drives you fucking crazy, he never stops talking, and he's a condescending asshole, but you like that about him. So you'll keep coming back for more.

(He never does shut up, though.)


End file.
